


incantation

by baekhyun (orphan_account), baruna (orphan_account)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Assassination Attempt(s), Developing Relationship, M/M, OT3, Pre-Relationship, Romance, Seasonal Spirits and Guardians, The Enchanted Forest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 23:40:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16169150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/baekhyun, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/baruna
Summary: Dumbfounded, the two of them stood in sustained silence as they stared longingly at Renjun’s retreating back. It felt surreal, like witnessing a shift in their waking reality.“…holy shit.” Jaemin says.“He’s, uh...” Jeno replies, stunned.“An asshole.” Jaemin says. “Which somehow makes me like him even more.”Or, Jeno and Jaemin encounter a boy living in a forest.





	incantation

**Author's Note:**

> A short little thing I wrote that I wanted to get out of my drafts-- will edit later.

**1.**

Time stripped away the outer layers of Hyunoul village's buildings, rendering the walls grey or barren. Skeletal structures decorated the forest clearing, exposed to harsh sunlight. Decay forested the bottommost layers of the gardens as ferns and seedlings populated the corners of the thicket.

Despite this, people  _lived_  in this village. Brambles, underbrush, ivy, berry bushes, and fallen trees decorated the surrounding forest in a disarray. The logs were arranged in a way that Jeno would describe as artful, but that was because he loved the surrounding nature. Hyunoul Village needed this ecosystem to survive. They were too far from any city habitat to sustain themselves through constant trade or civilization. 

Jeno ducked under the shades of canopy and watched as a small critter scrambled by, disturbed by his presence. The deer didn't notice him. He aimed his bow and squinted.

"Hey. Jeno."

The deer startled, prancing away elegantly. Jeno scowled darkly.

"Jaemin..."

The blond grinned unabashedly, appearing from behind him. Jeno should have known, what with the crackling of leaves emanating from his right for the last few minutes. The forest was ripe with mushrooms and shrubs and nutrients— Jaemin looked horribly out of place. He was in his fancy clothes, probably fresh from a translating session. 

"Come on, you're a skilled hunter. Don't tell me the deer eluded your sharp eyes?"

Jeno rolled his eyes, sliding the arrow back into his quiver smoothly. "Great. Keep interrupting me. I'll go back with nothing and we can all starve."

He wouldn’t go so far as to say the situation was idyllic… but it was home. Jaemin knelt on the ground, palming at a thick trunk embossed with vibrant moss—things like this fascinated him. Jaemin wasn’t a village boy, and any exposures to nature had only been in minuscule quantities, or artificially engineered gardens. He came from the  _city_. That was why he was good at things like reading, and translating.

Jeno stared at the dusting of his long eyelashes, his perfectly symmetrical nose, and swallowed, embarrassed. He turned away.

“Seriously,” Jaemin said, gentler this time. Jeno felt a hand rest on his shoulder. “The trade caravan just came in. We don’t have to worry about food for a few weeks.”

“If you say so.” Jeno said dubiously.

“I say so.” Jeno could  _hear_  Jaemin’s smile.

Things were comfortably silent between them as they walked back. Jeno would nudge him at him playfully, and Jaemin would flick him on the cheek. 

Then, they saw the lick of flames overhead once they exited the forest thicket.

"...was there a bonfire I didn't know about?" Jeno asked apprehensively. 

Jaemin's eyes narrowed. As they neared the village, the sounds of fighting were more apparent— vicious clashes of steel on steel decorated with bodies underneath. Jeno felt bile rise in his throat as he saw people he  _knew_  lying dead on the ground. 

The assailants were wearing dark, un-branded clothing. There was no telling what faction they were from. For a moment, all Jeno could do was stand there dumbly. 

And then someone clubbed Jeno in the head.

Pain exploded on the side of his face from the punch, ears ringing. Fuck, this guy packed a whollop. Screeching echoed from all sides, fighting and steam from fire colliding with the earth. Jeno’s head ached and pounded as he heaved himself up again, looking over the ruined terrain of Hyunoul Village. Jaemin helped him up, gaze filled with worry. He said something—mouthed something really, because Jeno couldn’t hear shit (his head was still ringing) —and Jeno shook his head, pointing at his ears and wincing at the dull throb. Jaemin’s lips tightened. He nodded stiffly and hauled them away to a smaller space closer to the woods and away from the open grasslands. This way, they could hide more easily.

It was there that they were intercepted. A man clothed in mercenary clothes, face half covered in a mask, lunged at them and tore Jaemin's shoulder apart. He let out a pained cry, and Jeno barreled his body into the fray. He didn't remember much of what happened next. His head was throbbing, and everything went dark. When Jeno came to, he was on the ground, and he had to pick himself up with a groan. Where the fuck was Jaemin? The guy was skinny. He read  _books_  for a living.

It occurred to Jeno that he must have only blacked out for a few seconds, because when he looked up, the darkly dressed mercenary was still there. But facing against him was  _Jaemin_.

Jaemin, the  _translator_ , was holding a sword. And not just swinging it around like an idiot. He was actually  _good_. Every move was calculated as Jaemin balanced his weight perfectly against the heavy metal. He held his stance with the seasoned pose of someone who had been trained by a master. Jeno's jaw dropped.

The dark-haired man lunged forward with a downwards slash as Jaemin expertly parried. The  _fuck_?

The worry soon faded into disbelief with every subsequent move. Jaemin’s opponent was clearly getting more and more frustrated, beads of sweat dripping down his temple. The man grit his teeth, lunging forward. His movements became increasingly sloppy. Jaemin held his sword lightly, brow wrinkled in concentration. But Jeno could tell—he was at  _ease_.

Jaemin wasn’t worried about how this fight would go.

Jaemin glanced over at Jeno—he must have seen his slack jaw, because Jaemin pursued his lips and twirled his wrist in some complicated motion before slashing the dark-haired man across his chest. Blood stained his tunic. The man fell backwards, head hitting the dirt with a thud. He didn’t get up.

Jaemin turned around, arm dripping with blood, yet somehow appearing guilty. Jeno just looked blankly at him.

"There's something I haven't told you, about me." Jaemin says, after a long moment where they just stared at each other.

Like that wasn't obvious enough.

Swallowing, Jaemin says: "I'm a prince."

Only now does Jeno comes to the stunning realization that Jaemin is not a scribe, when it should have been obvious from the moment Jaemin stepped foot into their village. His fancy, lace undershirt and tightly woven blue coat—the cultured and tempered way Jaemin held himself, his ability with languages, his way with  _people_. It was because he was used to the  _court_ back at the capital. It makes sense, of course it does, but still—

“You’re a what?” Jeno's voice cracks.

Jaemin grimaces. “A… prince.”

“From where?” Jeno asks dumbly. It's obvious from where, but he  _still has to ask_.

After a pause, Jaemin says, “The Capital.”

Jeno wracked his brain for an appropriate response to that. “I thought there were only two Princes in the Capital! Prince Taeyong and Jaehyun!”

The heir to their country was Prince Taeyong. Talented, powerful, and ridiculously well spoken, he was an indisputable contender to the throne. But perhaps even more popular with the general public was Prince Yoonoh. He had taken on the name Jaehyun after defeating eight dragons—as the legend went—and was just as well respected as his older brother. But Jeno had never heard of a Prince Jaemin. Ever.

“I’m a bastard.” Jaemin explained simply. That certainly shut Jeno up. But Jaemin didn’t seem shameful or remorseful; his tone was utterly matter-of-fact. “My father thought it wouldn’t be prudent to publicize my status, and the Queen treated me like her own son, so it wasn’t that bad…”

“Then why did you come here?”

Hyunoul was a border village—between Qin to the east and the surrounding thickets of forest, it was practically uninhabitable. Jeno remembered the exact day—five years ago, when Jaemin had come to their village on a tiny caravan, garbed in fancy clothing and shivering from the cold. He had been smiling cheerily despite it all. The trader had given the village leader a substantial amount of coin and told him that Jaemin would be staying here from now on. No one protested. They needed the money.

Before Jaemin could respond, the shouts became louder— the soldiers were nearing the fraying edges of the village.

"Let's go," Jeno says instead.

 

 

 

**2.**

They meet Renjun three hours after entering Hyunoul Forest.

The forest wasn’t a forgiving place. It was congenial to those whom nurtured it, but it regarded outsiders as foreign. It wasn’t a normal forest, that was for sure. They had Likar Forest to the south and Shingsang Forest to the west, but north… well.

There was something strange about  _this_  forest. Quiet. Tempered.

"I don't really want to go in." Jaemin said candidly, looking up. The cut on his arm had stemmed and clotted; it dripped sluggishly now. But Jaemin's chest was bruised as he breathed shallowly. Jeno grit his teeth.

"We need shelter, and I'm sure as hell not doing to let you bleed out." Jeno said. They had hastily bandaged his arm, but Jeno feared there was internal bleeding done to Jaemin's torso. He inhaled and stepped forward.

That attack on their village was planned and concerted. It was no wayward siege of disorganized mercenaries, or a foreign attack from a band of western soldiers. These were  _assassin_ _s_  that set fire and ruin to their town. They were looking for someone. Jaemin's face was placid, but Jeno couldn't help but wonder if these soldiers had been looking for  _Jaemin_. 

Together, they determinedly trudged on into the forest, seeking shelter. A cave or a clearing, even an overturned log would do— but everywhere looked the same, ripe with fernlike overgrowth. It was pleasant to look at, and not so pleasant to rest in.  Jaemin’s head had begun to hang listlessly, which was always a bad sign. The mass of stones cracked under their feet, the river bitingly cold. Jaemin stumbled and almost slipped on a smooth river stone. It wasn’t much better away from the river either—nettle and bramble pricked at them like needles.

“It’s tough out here.” Jaemin panted amusedly. His wound had begun to leak again, and a bead of sweat gathered at his temple.

“I won’t let you die.” Jeno said, and to his own horror,  _tears_  were threatening to build. It was embarrassing. But they had no shelter, no food, no means of surviving. Jaemin was his closest friend, royalty or not.

"Maybe we should just make do with this." Jaemin said doubtfully, holding his arm. But Jeno shook his head and pointed at the leaves.

"Someone was here before. There's a path." 

They followed the path tentatively, and Jeno would nudge at Jaemin every so often to make sure he didn't pass out. 

It was a house— nestled between two large trees in a rather large clearing. A garden framed the latter side while the river thinly lined the rocky path leading to the oaken door. The garden was well-tended, and the pots were strangely decorated around the sides, with intricate brass swirls of protruding sculptures. Every single twisted figure was that of a fox.

Jaemin's wound had opened again, and was leaking blood. Thank the gods they had found this place. Jeno hoped that whatever soul lived here would be kind enough to help them. 

“You’re dripping blood on my plants.” A voice said from behind them, disdainfully.

“Who the fuck are you?” Jeno countered. He froze once he made eye contact.

“I’m Renjun. Who the fuck are  _you_?”

Jeno's jaw grew slack the longer he stared. Jaemin wasn't doing any better beside him. The blood from his wound continued to drip down, but Jaemin was too busy staring to protest. The 'Renjun' fellow arched an eyebrow at the silence before shrugging. 

“You’re intruding on my forest.” The lovely dark-eyed teen said, before walking away. “So you’d better play by my rules.”

Dumbfounded, the two of them stood in sustained silence as they stared longingly at Renjun’s retreating back. It felt surreal, like witnessing a shift in their waking reality. 

“…holy shit.” Jaemin says.

“He’s, uh...” Jeno replies, stunned.

“An asshole.” Jaemin says. “Which somehow makes me like him even more.”

The following days passed in a blur. Renjun let them stay in a tiny room in the back. He was mostly quiet and kept to himself, but he hadn't kicked them out, letting Jaemin recuperate with his injuries. Jeno explained the situation to him— that Jaemin was a prince, and their village had been attacked. Renjun's face changed very little throughout the explanation. He didn't seem to be phased much by anything; he appeared physically as young as Jaemin, but acted much older.

That is, until Jeno caught him laughing unabashedly with Jaemin one day. Jaemin lifted his wrist to pour a cup of tea, exposing the pale wrist attached to his arm. It was elegant, as most gestures he did were, and Jeno stared.

"—of course, it was ludicrous at the time. Can you imagine Jeno trying to bargain with someone? He just kept getting ripped off by the traders."

"I assume this means that you're better at bargaining."

Jaemin winks. "I'm very charming."

Renjun laughs again. Jeno noticed that Renjun rarely did that when Jeno was around.

"You were a translator, and Jeno was a hunter. Did people often split roles like this in your village?"

"I guess." Jaemin considers. “Jeno is a softie, but hunted well.”

“Is he?” Renjun asks coldly. “He’s a hunter. You can't be soft in that profession.”

“I’ve known him since we were kids,” Jaemin chuckles, “Believe me. He’s soft.”

It was spoken with absolute affection, and Jeno's entire body felt warm. Jaemin was safe, and he was healing. 

 

 

 

**3.**

The weeks faded into a month, then into two months. Before Jeno could even comprehend what had occurred, he and Jaemin had practically settled down into this clearing. Renjun grew more familiar to them—his tics and concerns, his little quirks.

“I’m telling you, you grind your teeth when you chew.” Jaemin insists. “Like this.” He makes a weird noise at the back of his throat. Even if the intent is informative, it sounds inherently mocking. Jeno stifles a snort.

“Alright. Whatever you say.” Renjun rolls his eyes.

It was clear that Jaemin was absolutely smitten with him. Jeno couldn't say he was any better, but at least he was good at hiding it. Jaemin would send Renjun these lovestruck looks all the time, like the fool he was. They would help Renjun garden, or pluck herbs from the surrounding forest, and Jaemin would wax poetic about Renjun's handsome features.

Jeno said as much to Renjun once, when it was just the two of them. Jeno was showing him how to hunt. It clearly wasn't something that Renjun did often.

"I don't know. He talks about you a lot." Jeno realized that he must have sounded like a jealous lover, because Renjun asks curiously: 

“Oh. Are you two together?”

Jeno flushed. “No. Definitely not. What makes you think that?”

Arching a delicate eyebrow, Renjun’s lip twitches. “Nothing. Though I  _will_  be thinking it now, judging by your reaction.”

“He’s my best friend.” Jeno says helplessly, as if that explains anything.

"I see." Renjun says, though his tone belied nothing of his true feelings. The truth was, Renjun had been warming up to Jeno for these last few months. Jeno was an innately kind person. It hadn't been immediately clear, but Renjun was a rather good judge of character, and now felt that Jeno was perhaps the most kind out of all three of them. "Tell me more about your village life."

Jeno blinks. "Why?"

Renjun shrugged. "You and Jaemin have been here for sometime, but I haven't inquired much about your lives. I only know that you two were attacked."

Jeno mulls over this for a moment. "Life at Hyunoul was peaceful." He finally decides. "There weren't many nearby neighboring villages. We got trade caravans monthly, and sometimes we'd get visitors from the caravan. Like, there was this kid Haechan, sometimes he'd stop by for no apparent reason..."

Renjun was smiling. He was  _smiling_  at Jeno—it was the fond look that he typically gave when he was doodling at the table, or tending to his plants. They weren't even under the ruse of hunting now. Renjun clung only lightly to his bow and arrow, for he was focusing utterly on Jeno's words. A stray arc of sunlight hit his cheekbones at exactly the right angle. 

Jeno swallowed and tried to push down the uprise of feelings. "What about you?"

"Hm?"

"Why are you in this forest?" 

A fox darted by them, and Renjun followed the movement with his gaze placidly. Jeno turned to watch. The fox stared at them for a moment, and Renjun frowned.

"Go." He said. "Tell him I'm not changing my mind." 

The fox stamped a paw on the ground, sniffing at a piece of moss before looking at Renjun again. It turned its sly gaze to Jeno and growled, before darting away. What the fuck?

Jeno asks, "...Were you just talking to that fox?" 

There is silence before Renjun sets his bow and arrow down. "Have you ever heard of Yixing?"

"The god of foxes?" Jeno wracks his brain. "Who hasn't?"

"He comes from the civilization far to the west, where I'm from." Renjun says. "There, they worship foxes. These foxes cultivate their spirits for many years until they can undergo a spiritual trial."

Jeno struggles to understand how this is relevant to his question.

"Do the people there talk to foxes or something?"

Renjun gives him a  _look_. Which is when Jeno realizes Renjun's eyes are orange and glowing. He jumps.

"Renjun. Your, uh, eyes are glowing? Is that normal?"

Renjun lifts out a hand, still looking Jeno directly in the eye. His palm hovers midair over the bow and arrow.

"Up." He commands simply. The bow and arrow whip up magnetically into Renjun's hand. 

"I am a fox." Renjun says. "And I refused to undergo my spiritual trial. This forest is my punishment."

 

 

 

**4.**

Renjun is not human. There are non-human beings in this world. What the  _fuck_?

Jeno then realizes that Renjun had decided to tell  _him_  first, rather than Jaemin, and briefly wonders why. Of course, Jeno immediately tells Jaemin afterwards. The two of them ponder this fact quite incredulously. 

They get another shock a week later. 

They had bombarded Renjun nonstop with questions for the last few days. It was to be expected — they had never thought spirits were even real before meeting Renjun.

"So, you've met Yixing before? What about Rikash from the north? Or Soo-an from  _our_  country?" Jaemin asks excitedly. 

"I'm not a god." Renjun replies, irritated. "I don't know if those gods are real. I only interacted with those from the fox clans."

"I'm sure they're real." Jaemin continues conversationally. "This is insane. Wow."

"What're your relationships with other spirits like?" Jeno asks.

Renjun pursues his lips, carefully replying, “Yixing and I have a lot of respect for each other. As for Donghyuck and I… I’m not sure respect is the right term. More like camaraderie.”

“Donghyuck?”

Renjun blinks. “Haechan. Weren’t you just talking about him last week?”

Jaemin’s jaw dropped. Renjun stopped short. For a moment, no one spoke — a vein however, did pop up in Jeno's jaw.

"Maybe they're different people?" Renjun tries weakly, but it's too late. 

Jeno scowls darkly. "You mean to tell me that Haechan is a spirit too? That little annoying trader kid?"

"He's frivolous and rambunctious!" Renjun says. "How was I to know that he would go in his free time to loiter with mortals!"

"He  _is_  flighty." Jaemin says in agreement. "I wonder if there were other spirits visiting our village."

Now that Renjun had told them the truth, things had become obvious. For example, the fact that Renjun's plants grew a little too well, or that his nearby well required so little maintenance for fresh water, unlike the communal one for Hyunoul. The nice animals visited their hut, and the more dangerous creatures avoided it. The strange, all-seeing aura of the forest dissipated within a certain range of Renjun's living space— perhaps Renjun had erected a barrier, or perhaps the forest just  _knew_  what he was, and granted Renjun the proper courtesy that all spiritual beings were granted. Regardless, Renjun elaborated little on his past, and was reticent on the extent of his powers. But Renjun didn’t seem to have an interest in leaving the forest. At all. He seemed content. Happy.

The only time a frown really graced his face was near the beginnings of spring, when they got a surprise visit.

A floppy, brown-haired boy pranced into Renjun’s kitchen one day. It was Haechan. The plants seemed to blossom and erupt wherever he walked, and the sun shone a little more brightly wherever he stepped. Jeno and Jaemin couldn’t believe they hadn’t noticed before.

The bright-eyed teen looked over at them with open, curious eyes.

“Renjun!” He says brightly. Renjun shut his eyes in a slight exhalation before opening them again. He didn’t even bother with plastering a fake smile on his face.

“Donghyuck.” Renjun says flatly. “What the hell are you doing here?”

"Spreading my seeds." Haechan says. He winks at Jeno. "The flowers have to bloom  _somehow_."

“ _You’re_  the god of Harvest?” Jaemin echoes in disbelief.

"I’m a  _sprite_ of harvest.” Hyuck corrects. "Just like how Renjun is a fox sprite." 

The four of them chat for a while. Haechan studiously does not bring up their destroyed village, and he leaves in a flourish of leaves.

Time passed like this. Jeno would place a hand at the small of Renjun’s back, and Renjun would brush his knuckle under Jeno’s chin. He would do the same with Jaemin. The three of them were more than friends, less than lovers—and Jeno was satisfied. He carefully avoided speaking of his relationship with the two of them, because Jeno was awkward and poor at managing relationships. And of course, Jaemin and Renjun frequented each other for company numerous times when Jeno was out hunting, or simply exploring. None of them were technically obligated to tell each other anything, and it was in these stolen moments that Jaemin confessed to Renjun. 

It happens like this: Renjun is talking about his poor relationship with his kin. Jaemin listens intently, unmoving. "It's alright." Jaemin says, after a moment of silence. It had been years since someone had given Renjun this; the wonderful gift of being heard.

“I’m pretty much in love with you.” Jaemin remarks casually, afterwards. Renjun stills. “I know it’s probably not what you wanted to hear, but it’s true.”

After a moment, Renjun regains his composure, face carefully blank. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Absolutely not. But it happened anyway, so.”

“Jaemin,” Renjun says, “I…”

“Don’t say anything.” Jaemin’s veneer of confidence wavers, revealing the depth of his feelings.

“No.” Renjun’s tone is firm. “Jaemin, I haven’t trusted a human in a long time. You and Jeno are the exceptions.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means this is a bad idea.” Renjun says, before leaning over and pressing his lips lightly against Jaemin's. It was an average kiss by all means. But to Jaemin, it was everything.

"What about Jeno?" Jaemin whispers against his lips.

"You know how I feel about him." Renjun says, "But what do you feel?"

 

 

 

**5.**

Another truth: good things are not meant to last.

The assassins came at night. It was a covert affair—Jeno should have realized that something was direly wrong. There was no chirping of birds, no rustling amongst the brush. Complete and utter silence in this forest was a bad sign indeed, but none of them noticed until it was too late. A dark figure slid into the window that Jaemin and Jeno shared.

Jaemin gave a small cry as he was gutted in his bed.

Thankfully, Jeno slept next to his bow and arrow—he shot blindly from across the room, based on the noise alone—and the shot hit true. The assassin died, blood spurting from his neck. But there were people outside, and now they weren’t even trying to hide the racket. There was screaming, and then—silence. Jeno stumbled towards the foot of Jaemin’s bed. The lantern flickered on and Renjun burst through the door; he was covered in blood as he panted, and his eyes were wide on Jaemin’s bed.

Jaemin looked awful. The bed was soaked through with blood, and he looked pale as a ghost. His chest was barely stuttering with raspy breaths, and his arm drifted limply off the bed, hanging there like a corpse. Jaemin's eyelids fluttered before sliding shut. Jeno thought he was going to puke.

“Jaem.” He choked out. “Oh, no. No.”

Renjun strode forwards, and determinedly laid a glowing hand against Jaemin's forehead. The paleness faded away somewhat, but Jaemin looked a minute away from death. A series of expressions crossed Renjun's face very quickly, one apparent above all: despair.

Suddenly, Renjun said, "Please."

Jeno was crying now.

“Please.” Renjun repeated. It was the first time Jeno had ever heard him beg. “Yixing-ge. I need your power. Lend me one of your tails.”

Blood spluttered from Jaemin’s mouth as he let out a weak cough. He was dying. The corner of Renjun’s mouth tightened.

“Please,” Renjun’s head bowed. “I’m an unfaithful brother. I have not adhered to our ways and I know I deserve my exile… but just this once. Help me again, like you used to.”

For a belated moment, nothing happened. Dread filled Jeno’s veins and he blinked back tears at the realization that Jaemin was going to die, and not even the gods would help him. But then, the plans on Jaemin’s chest began to smoke. The flesh wound stitched together bloody thread by thread, like a gruesome open surgery in reverse. Renjun let out a shaky sigh.

Dumbfounded, Jeno sat back on his heels in utter relief. After a moment of speechlessness where Jaemin’s breaths evened out, Jeno spoke.

“I didn’t even know you liked Jaemin that much.”

Renjun turned to look at him.

“… are you an idiot?” He inquired, and let out another shaky shudder. Renjun gripped Jeno's hand in a painfully tight grip, their fingers intertwined. All before about him that had seemed invulnerable was now proven to be a lie, a flimsily held mask. Renjun was  _scared_.

"He'll be okay, right?"

"He'd better." Renjun swears.

It takes a full two weeks for Jaemin to heal, which is actually unnaturally quick. Renjun claims that the forest is helping him, but Jaemin and Jeno both know it's more than that. Meanwhile, Jaemin narrates the scattered novella of his life. His father had sent him away because of constant assassination attempts — even with the highest security, the assassins continued to break through, until Jaemin's brothers had found out that it was their  _mother_ sending the assassins. And that made things messy, because the King and the Princes loved their Queen, and she _did_ love Jaemin in her own way, but not enough that she didn't see him as an active threat for her son's throne. Bitterly, Jaemin tells them, "I never even wanted that damned throne."

Despite all this, for someone who had just suffered an almost fatal injury, Jaemin is surprisingly peppy.

“Renjun loves me!” Jaemin repeats gleefully, eyes bright. He makes a fist in the air, giddy, as he lays on his bed, abdomen covered in thick bandages. Jeno almost regrets telling him.

“This is ridiculous.” Jeno says, jealous. He’s not sure who he’s jealous of, but he's also undeniably  _glad_  that Jaemin is alive, which explains why he impulsively lowers his head to meld his lips against Jaemin's.

He almost expects to be pushed away, but Jeno feels a hand at the nape of his neck, scratching lightly— the hand cups his cheek and Jaemin is  _kissing him back_. 

"Took you long enough." Jaemin whispers once they part, grinning. 

A cough sounds from behind them. 

“Miscreants.” Renjun allows, smiling at the two of them. Twin pairs of dark eyes rove over him. Renjun has always been slight, but he looks extra small and skinny in this particular tunic. It's shocking to know that Renjun had singlehandedly disposed of all the assassins that night outside, and had piled up the corpses and burned them apathetically. 

“So?” Renjun demands imperiously. "Where's  _my_  kiss?"

Smiling, Jeno gestures and pulls Renjun onto the bed with an 'oomph'. He presses a kiss onto Renjun's temple.

"Took you long enough." Renjun says as Jaemin's breath evens out into sleep, the three of them tangled on the bed — content.


End file.
